


#BFFLS #SELFIE #NoFilter

by comefeedtherainn



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Ableist Language, Guns, M/M, some very minor tuckington, split personality (O'Malley shit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comefeedtherainn/pseuds/comefeedtherainn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Dufresne just has one of those faces. Really forgettable. Except to one Franklin Delano Donut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#BFFLS #SELFIE #NoFilter

**Author's Note:**

> My first rvb fanfiction :o and my first fanfiction in…god, it’s been like eight years?? Wowie. Anyway, I hope y’all like some angsty and kinda fluffy docnut :3

“I feel like I’ve always been that friend that everyone forgets about.”

It’s late, or rather early morning, in Valhalla, the air so thick and muggy it made it difficult to breathe. That doesn’t deter Donut from pressing as much of his body up against Doc’s as he can as they lay in bed, trying to sleep as the never-setting sun peeks through their makeshift blinds. Donut’s eyes flit to the other man’s face, his cheek pressed to Doc’s bony chest. “What do you mean?” he asks quietly, Doc’s statement much more somber than the rest of their conversation had been.

The medic shrugs slightly, trying not to jostle Donut too much and avoiding his eyes by staring at the ceiling instead. “I don’t know. I just...you ever have that feeling that you may have a best friend, but you’re not  _their_ best friend? I’ve always been that guy. Like in high school, people would always forget to invite me to stuff, or about my birthday, stuff like that. Happened in college too. And grad school. And basic.”

Donut is quiet for a bit, remembering all of the times that Doc had been forgotten in the rush of the crazy shitstorm of events at Blood Gulch. Apart from when he was infected by Omega, anyway. He was a bit less easy to ignore then. It wasn’t that way for Donut, though. Doc was nearly always on his mind, even before the whole ‘nearly died, romantically nursed back to health by sexy medic’ thing. Even before the thing where they kissed over a garden plot, dirt caked under their fingernails and laughing awkwardly as they realized Lopez’s body-turned-scarecrow was looming over them.

“Well, you’re not that guy anymore,” Donut tells him, lifting up his head to smile down at the other man and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with a playful finger. “You’re my best friend, and I’m yours, right?"

Doc’s lips twitch slightly, like he isn’t sure which emotion to feel. “Right,” he agrees in a quiet voice, his deep brown eyes softening as he searches Donut’s bright blue ones. He is quiet for another few moments, closing his eyes as Donut begins running his fingers through his thick curls and scratching his scalp. “The only time I wasn’t ignored in high school was track. But it was different after the meets were over, none of them wanted to be my friend, I was just the nerdy fast kid. But you’re...different. You’re the only one that’s different.”

“That’s not true,” Donut tries to correct him, though the other Reds and Blues could be gigantic dicks who pretended to have no feelings, so he can’t blame the medic for his assessment. “The others care about you, too. They’re just...well, they’re assholes,” he laughs quietly.

Doc manages a real smile at that, although it is small. “Yeah, they kind of are.” Another few moments of silence. “Promise we’ll stick together, okay? No matter what.”

Donut smiles and leans forward to press his lips tenderly to Doc’s, chaste and reassuring. “Of course we will. Best friends for life, duh.” He resumes brushing his fingers through Doc’s hair, lulling him into a doze. “I’ll never forget about you.”

  
***

  
Donut has always considered himself to be an optimist. He had to be, to survive being closeted in the middle of scenic nowhere in Iowa, surrounded by hyper-masculinity and a general hatred for everything different. Somehow, he was surprised when the army wasn’t much different. Basic was hell, to put it lightly, and he still grimaced as he remembered how he had forced himself to change everything; let his bottle-blonde hair fade back to brown, altered his mannerisms, even his voice, to avoid making life any more difficult for himself.

Being stationed in Blood Gulch was...well, it was hard to explain how he felt about it. Grif and Simmons were assholes to him from the get-go, but he didn’t take that personally, he was the rookie. He took it a bit more personally when they shamelessly expressed extreme discomfort with him, cringing at innuendos that he didn’t realize he’d been making, at first. As if the fact that he was gay meant that he must be into them, as if they were anywhere near his type. He’d like to say that he remained woefully oblivious to their discomfort, but the reality was that he got a vindictive pleasure in ensuring that every other sentence he uttered was laced with enough homosexual innuendo to turn Simmons’ face the color of his armor.

Despite all of this, however, he had remained optimistic, and could now consider the pair of them two of his closest friends. For some reason.

It was much more difficult to remain optimistic when internalized homophobia wasn’t his only problem, when instead it was civil war and his friends - his  _family_ , he dared to think - being stabbed and shot, his Doc disappearing. Doc has been gone for months, vanishing just before Donut, Wash, Sarge and Lopez had been captured by Locus and the Reds and Blues had all been thrust into a civil war they had no business being a part of. Donut can’t remember exactly when he had left, just that all of a sudden he wasn’t there. Where the hell could he have gone? He hadn’t even said goodbye. If he’d been reassigned, why the hell didn’t he at least say goodbye?

It was anger that kept Donut from trying to discover his whereabouts. Anger and hurt. He’d thought they had shared something unique and meaningful in Valhalla, tending to their garden and their tiny home. Donut had shared more than he had ever expected to again with another person; his body, his soul, his secrets, everything. Doc had said...well, Donut realized that he must have forgotten that people threw the “L” word around quite easily these days. Stupid.

Everyone, apparently, except for his stupid fucking friends. “Tucker, I swear to god you are making me want to dig into Simmons’ druggie stash, and I pride myself on being straight edge!” Donut snaps, glaring at his friend from across the table. He cradles a glass of wine in his palm, his other busy reaching over the heaping plate of cheese to fill Tucker’s glass for the third time.

“What? What the fuck did I do?” Tucker asks indignantly, leaning back in his chair in an affronted manner and nearly slopping wine all over his civvies.

“Nothing! That’s the problem!” Donut sighs, shaking his head in dismay. “You’re so, so dumb. You’re both so dumb.”

“Dude, I came here for advice, not for you to be a dick,” Tucker huffs, blowing one of his dreads out of his face as it slides slowly into his line of vision. “What the hell do I do about Wash?”

“What have I been telling you for months? There’s only so many times I can drop hints before I just smack you over your pretty head with a rolled up newspaper,” Donut chirps, raising an eyebrow over the rim of his wine glass as he took a sip.

“Okay, but what if he’s not into me like that? What if we can’t even be friends anymore?” Tucker scowls and picks at a spot on the table as he speaks, shifting uncomfortably at even this small sign that he might have feelings. “I can’t just...lay it all on the fucking table if he’s just gonna throw it back in my face. Or possibly punch my face.”

“You have to try.” Donut’s voice is firm as he says it. “Even if it might hurt. Because you’ll just lay awake at night wondering what might have happened if you don’t say anything. And let’s be honest, Tucker, none of us is sure we’ll live long enough to afford being careful.”  _Or when the last time we see each other will be,_ he adds to himself.

The corner of Tucker’s mouth lifts, and he half-shrugs and half-nods in ascent. “Yeah, okay. You’ve got me there.” He heaves a huge sigh at that, rubbing his face with both hands. “I am soooo fucked, dude.”

Donut regards him with a small, fond smile. “Happens to the best of us, my friend.”

***

_Hey Donut, Doc is back, Tucker and Caboose found him. Which, I guess means he was gone. Who fucking knew, right?_

Grif has barely finished his sentence before Donut disconnects the call and begins sprinting full tilt toward Tucker and Caboose’s GPS signals. He’s obscenely noisy in his armor, but it does grant him a bit more speed and the ability to jump over large obstacles. He’s removing his helmet before he’s even entered the cave, tossing it to the ground and his heart leaping as he catches the flash of deep purple.

He stops dead in his tracks as a cold barrel presses tightly to the center of his forehead. Doc’s helmet is removed as well, though it appears that that is mostly due to the fact that it’s broken than the fact that he’s happy to see Donut. The pistol pressed to Donut’s head is another indicator. He barely hears Tucker’s strained “Woah, woah, easy Doc!” from somewhere on the ground, his voice thick as he speaks around his nose bleed. Every bit of Donut's being is focused on Doc’s eyes, eyes he hasn’t seen in over a year, eyes that are clouded over with something darkly familiar.

“Frank,” he tries carefully, blinking and closing his mouth as O’Malley’s laugh bubbles from between Doc’s lips. “...Omega?”

“No, he’s just fucking loopy now,” Tucker amends, attempting to take a few steps closer. “Doc, stop pointing shit at Donut. Not cool.”

“You fools!” Doc exclaims. Though, it’s not Doc, Donut thinks wildly, because Doc would never wield a gun unless absolutely necessary. But Omega was destroyed, he couldn't be possessing Doc again.  _He's fucking loopy now,_ Tucker’s voice echoes in his skull. “I will kill you all for your incompetence!” Doc continues, and the world freezes for a split second as he cocks the pistol. Tucker is fast, though, faster than ever with help from Washington, and he has both hands on Doc’s arm and shoves it straight upward. Rubble rains down from the rocky ceiling as three shots fire into the stone.

The noise seems to startle something in Doc; he always flinched at the sound of gunshots. His eyes clear and his expression turns to one of perplexed shock. “Woah! That was loud!” he remarks, then blinks as he realizes his position. “Tucker? Wh-” He stops again as he seems to feel the gun in his hand, his finger on the trigger, and swiftly drops it to the ground.

“Jesus fuck, don’t drop it!” Tucker yelps, relaxing when it doesn’t go off. Donut is frozen, staring at Doc’s face like he is an entirely new person. Tucker twists Doc’s arm behind his back, ignoring the pained protests as the aqua soldier searches him for more weapons. “Sorry Doc. You almost wasted Donut, not gonna risk it.”

Doc’s face drops completely and his head whips around, locking eyes with Donut and the first spark of recognition flooding the beautiful, deep brown of them. “Donut,” he says quietly, not quite a question. More like a prayer.

Donut swallows thickly and takes a step forward, refusing to be afraid now. He reaches forward with both hands, intending to take his Frank’s face into his hands and kiss him and kiss him and never let him go ever again. But he doesn’t get that far, Doc’s expression clouding over once more into something even worse than before. He’s still here now, Donut recognizes. But he’s angry. Donut isn’t sure what to do with this information, and opens his mouth to ask a million questions; what’s wrong? Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?

“Come on,” Tucker interjects quietly, chewing the inside of his lip and looking between them both as they stare at each other. “Let’s get you to base, Doc. We’ll get you checked out.” Doc complies without another word, acting as if Donut doesn’t exist the entire trek back.

***  
Something about future cubes, and an alternate universe. Donut will admit, he isn’t stupid, but he certainly isn’t a scientist, either. The mechanics of it all make no sense, but it’s what Doc told Tucker and Caboose happened to him, and so Donut believes it. He is relieved to have an explanation for the sudden disappearance, for him not saying goodbye. Still, it would be nice to hear it explained by the medic himself, if only he would speak to Donut or even recognize his existence. He is cleared by Doctor Grey the same day he arrives, prescribed therapy but not much else. He isn’t hurt, not physically, anyway. So it is quite easy for Doc to avoid Donut when he has the freedom to hide anywhere in Armonia.

Donut spends an entire week trying to understand what is happening between himself and Doc. He tries the direct approach, first, but is so steadfastly ignored he honestly believes he may have accidentally installed an invisibility unit in his sleep. He tries sending Doc notes, getting Tucker to deliver messages for him, but nothing works.

He’s sitting in his room one night, feeling sorry for himself and nursing a bottle of wine with no glass - one cannot be classy when one is depressed - when the door bursts open so violently is bounces off the wall. Donut jumps and almost dumps wine on himself, blinking as he realizes that Doc is standing in his doorway, panting slightly and hair disheveled. Donut pauses for a moment, tilting his head at him. “...Frank?” he asks, wondering if the medic is mentally present or if O’Malley has come to the forefront.

“You forgot me.”

Donut’s stomach drops at the low, miserable tone of what is indeed Doc’s voice. “What? Of course I didn’t, Frank. I promised, I’ll never-”

“But you  _did,_ ” Doc spits, and he stalks into the room before slamming the door behind him. Donut doesn’t flinch, he has never been scared of Frank before and just because the man held a gun to his head doesn’t mean he’s going to start now. This is, however, very unlike Doc, and Donut knows that the aggression is not an attempt at intimidation but rather something that the medic is having difficulty controlling. “You forgot me,” Doc continues, his eyes glittering in the low light from the bedside lamp. “No one even knew I was gone. For a year!”

Donut slowly rises to his feet, a lump forming in his throat at the sight of Doc’s eyes shining and the sound of his breath hitching. “I knew, Frank. I promise I knew. I just...I thought you had left, without saying goodbye. So I didn’t look for you.”

“You didn’t look for me!” Doc cries, and O’Malley’s accent slips through the words. “You didn’t even try, you left me to suffer and wallow in-”

“Frank!” Donut calls out firmly, putting his hands on Doc’s shoulders and squeezing. “Come back, Frank. I know, I let you down.” His voice wavers at that, and he blinks rapidly so he can continue. “I let you down horribly,and I’m so, so sorry. But I promise, I didn’t forget you. I guess I just...forgot what kind of person you are. I’m so stupid.” He has to stop then, close his eyes and hold his breath so he doesn’t start ugly crying, because he can feel it in the way his chin quivers that this is going to be the ugliest cry of his entire life.

Doc is shaking a bit underneath his hands, and Donut steps forward to test the waters. “Don’t,” Frank gasps, and it wrenches Donut’s gut to hear the hurt and the anger as he pulls away from the attempted embrace. “Why would you think I would just leave like that? Why would you just assume?”

“Because I’m stupid!” Donut says again, louder and with tears and fuck, he’s ugly crying. Great. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I’m sorry. I should have realized, I should have known you b-better.” He pulls away, wrapping his arms around himself instead.

“You should have,” Doc agrees, but his voice isn’t as hard. He sighs, deflating as he takes a couple steps toward Donut. “Donut, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m t-trying not to,” Donut gasps, rubbing at his eyes fruitlessly. “Don’t feel bad for me, stop l-looking at me like th-that.”

“But you’re a mess,” Doc teases gently, smiling at the surprised laugh that Donut chokes on. “It’s hard not to pity you when you’re ugly crying.”

“Shut up,” Donut says weakly, feeling his chest loosen a bit at the ribbing and the smile on Frank’s face. He peers up at the other man, reaching to brush his fingertips against Doc’s dark, stubbled jaw. “I promised. I promised we’d stick together. But if you don’t want to anymore, I understand,” he says quietly, lowering his eyes.

A long, thin finger curls itself underneath Donut’s chin and tilts his head upward, forcing their eyes to meet again. Doc is smiling a bit wider now, his eyes still sad and tired and his demeanor still defeated but he’s smiling. “Best friends for life, duh,” he says quietly, grinning when Donut does. Their first kiss in over a year is soft, and gentle, and brief, but it’s what they both need. An apology, forgiveness, solid and warm and very, very real. And slowly, finally, Donut finds himself beginning to feel optimistic.


End file.
